Going Out On a Limb
by WeWriteTheTruth
Summary: Nikolas is desperate to feel something. Perhaps leaving his homeland will achieve the desired results.  DenNor


**Yeah, it's another story concept. Not totally sure where I'm going to go with it, guess we'll see. I was planning on making it longer, but I turned this first chapter into a prologue of sorts I guess. (Honestly, it's 1 in the morning and I'm too tired to type anything else.) The next chapters will be longer, hopefully. Reviews are appreciated - tell me what you think!  
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><p>The last few weeks had been filled with pamphlets. There were so many different tactics used to capture your attention. Bright colors or bold script – none of it really made much of a difference to Nikolas. He still couldn't decide where in the world he wanted to go.<p>

There comes a time in many peoples' lives where they just have to get away. Sometimes it's the fact that you don't have a home, or had one that never really felt like one. For Nikolas, everything just started to look the same and to be honest, it scared him to death. (Not that he would ever dare admit that.) It felt like he was seeing everything through a dull, monochrome filter. He would always come back to Norway, he told himself – he _promised _himself. He just needed a change of scenery, was all. Everything would be back to normal after a short trip.

For as long as he could remember, Nikolas recorded his life into a journal. He put his soul into the thing and guarded it as if it was twice as valuable as the sun itself. It was a way of venting – especially when he refused to use ordinary communication as a method. He didn't have much to say at all when he was little, but soon found it could be used for more than just reciting the events of the day. You could put dreams, wishes, hopes, ideas, _anything. _The best part was, no one ever had to hear what it was. You were confiding in something without really telling anyone at all.

He had been keeping a list of all the possible places to go. Most of them he had crossed or even burned out in frustration. Nothing felt right. Nothing even began to interest him. Last night he wrote down 'America' three times just so he could have the chance to cross it off the list that many times as well. It was most assuredly never, ever going to be an option. A few countries were still up in the air, either because he didn't know much about them or hadn't heard of them.

What he didn't have the heart to tell himself, was he had literally nothing to go back to. His personality (or lack thereof) turned people off in a heartbeat. It was hard to get rid of a trait that seemed to be ingrained into the very structure of your DNA.

His slim, pale fingers hefted another pamphlet. This one was embossed with gold lettering in a regal, spiraling script. It didn't persuade him to go to France much at all, although, he had to admit the pictures of flaky pastries on the back did tempt him in the slightest. Emil always told him that he probably had a sweet tooth because he really wasn't very sweet at all. Nikolas' body just had to compensate for it. He let out a terse sigh and tossed it aside carelessly, adding to the haphazard pile that used to be the coffee table.

Emil was his little brother, but he had long since had the courage to move on. Nikolas envied him. Something was always different about his brother's persona: he had friends, he had a sense of humor not solely based on sarcasm. There were a lot of things to be jealous for. But he still loved him. Emil was his best and most dearest friend.

Nikolas even half-hoped that one of these brochures would convince him that Norway was worthwhile and he should just stay behind. Maybe they could manage to take away what he couldn't. It was a lovely idea, but highly improbable.

In annoyance, he tossed a few more papers aside in spite. They probably wouldn't have meant much to him anyways. The Norwegian scooped up a blinding, garish red brochure and narrowed his indigo eyes dangerously at the thing. It was a wonder they were allowed to print it – Nikolas felt as if he'd go blind from looking at it for too long. His lips tightened into a firm line as he opened it, prepared for the worst. Truthfully, this was the most visually _displeasing _piece of paper yet. But, something was different about it.

Nikolas couldn't explain, but he felt a strong invisible and definitely unexplainable tether to the thing – to uh.. whatever country it was advertising. He quickly flipped back through to the cover. What he saw made him laugh bitterly. Denmark? Of all places, Denmark. He shook his head, feeling utterly cheated. What part of him (idiotic part, mind you) wanted to go to Denmark? He shoved the rest of the pamphlets onto the floor and placed this one on the bare ebony table.

He stared at it for what he imagined was probably a few days. Nikolas didn't believe in God, he barely believed in anything, but this had to be some sort of supernatural sign. The earnest, desperate tugging sensation in his heart could definitely attest to that. His chest ached – he supposed from lack of use. The cogs and gears in his heart were just barely beginning to come alive, he knew they were rusty, but somehow still able to function. Perhaps if.. if he just gave it a chance, the machine inside his chest would start running. It was a wonder to feel anything but monotony.

Nikolas set his navy blue, hard-backed journal into his lap and began thumbing through the worn pages hurriedly. Eventually, his fingers found what they were searching for: the list. He scanned the list carefully, murmuring the countries' names he had already denied. Ah, there it was – Denmark. Surprisingly, he had left it unblemished. He tapped his finger on the letters carefully, cautiously. Surely this had to mean something.

He set the book aside and picked up the receiver of his phone. It was caked with a light coating of dust and felt foreign in his hands. Was it really that long since he had called someone? With a sigh, his fingers began dialing the number he had made sure to memorize.

The Norwegian's voice was a bit raspy from lack of use, but he was thankful it at least sounded moderately normal.

"Hello? .. What? Yes, yes.. I'm an adult." Nikolas cursed under his breath to himself. Did he really sound that young? "I'd like to purchase a ticket. To Denmark."


End file.
